


you're the reason i'm alone and masturbate

by orphan_account



Category: Twenty One Pilots
Genre: Exhibitionism, M/M, Masturbation, Mutual Masturbation, PWP, Voyeurism, josh dun is a little shit
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-19
Updated: 2017-04-19
Packaged: 2018-10-20 18:22:32
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,540
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10668225
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: He doesn’t have a problem with masturbation; put a bunch of horny guys in their twenties together on a bus and you’re bound to hear someone at least once.It’s just, Josh could at least try to act like he wasn’t jerking off almost every single night.





	you're the reason i'm alone and masturbate

**Author's Note:**

> this is just shameless smut that's been sitting in my google docs for months, i'll add more if you guys dig it tho!  
> title from all time low by jon bellion because i hate myself  
> enjoy xox!

He’s going to kill Josh.

Not actually; just figuratively. 

Tyler knows how it is on tour. Knows how little private time you get, and how hard it is to keep quiet or go undetected with how close the bunks are and how, _not_ soundproof the curtains seem to be. He doesn’t have a problem with masturbation; put a bunch of horny guys in their twenties together on a bus and you’re bound to hear _someone_ at least once.

It’s just, Josh could at least _try_ to act like he wasn’t jerking off almost every single night.

Tyler was sleep deprived. Josh’s bunk was right below his. You see how this could be a huge problem. He understands Josh is a single guy living on the road, and with hotel nights far and in between in this particular time, there’s practically no other place to jack it than the shower. But seriously, he’s worried for Josh’s dick. More so, he’s worried for his _own_ dick because Josh’s soft breaths and the sound of skin-on-skin is enough to make anyone get hard, right?

Agonizingly hard.

If he goes one more night this hard, he’s going to lose it. He refuses to touch himself to the sound of his best friend jerking off below him; simple. Okay, maybe, not so simple. It’s that he wants to _so_ bad, to chase his release with Josh not even four feet under him whimpering? Fuck, the thought gets his jeans tightening.

But he won’t, because that’s unconstitutional, or something. What if Josh hears him and thinks it’s weird? Better yet, what if Josh hears and it fuels him on? Tyler doesn’t know if he could handle either of those scenarios.

So, most nights he settles with putting headphones in as quietly as possible, and actively avoiding touching his cock. Easy, breezy, not so satisfying. Josh seems to start when everyone else on the bus is asleep, other than Tyler. It’s like he fucking times it perfectly, will only lazily let his hand roam into his boxer briefs when Tyler’s the one person listening.

Not that he knows. Or maybe he does; Tyler isn’t quite sure. Either way: it’s torture, and if Tyler has to endure it again, he’s going to blow up. Or rather, put an end to Josh’s late night self-pleasure sessions.   


 

***

 

Blowing up is the wrong wording.

It’s a Friday night and they just finished playing a show in Vegas. The outcome was pretty fantastic, if Tyler says so himself. Congratulatory high fives and pats on the backs are passed around before they head out to the tour bus. Most of the crew decided to wander through the city, hitting up Casinos they’ll probably never visit again.

They have a show in California the next night, so they vowed not to stay out too late. Tyler would’ve accompanied them, if Josh went. But he didn’t, requesting a lay in; which Tyler was totally okay with. Shows took a lot out of them.

They had changed into comfortable clothes to lounge around with the bus to themselves, playing a few games, munching on a couple snacks. Bumping elbows in matches of Mario Kart came to a halt when Tyler yawned and Josh followed right after. Contagious? Contagious.

“Bed?” Josh asked, already getting up to turn off the tv and console. Tyler merely nodded, stretching out another yawn before leading the way to the bunk area. Josh flicked the lights off as they went.

They shuffled into their spaces, passing a few goodnight’s and another round of ‘good job today’s before shutting up for attempted sleep. It wasn’t even five minutes after Tyler closed the black curtain to his bunk that he heard it. Anyone else would’ve passed it off as simple rustling of sheets, but Tyler knew.

Josh was inching his basketball shorts down slightly, enough to have access to his dick. A pin drop would be loud in the parked, empty bus, and Tyler has to deal with _this._ This; the sound of Josh’s boxer brief waistband shifting to let his hand take ahold of his presumably hard cock. Jesus Christ, what was this guy playing at?

Well, he’s wide awake now.

Josh surely took a long, slow tug upwards, and it was something about noises. _Noises_ , sounds, music. Tyler’s a musician, that’s why this is having such an effect on him. Yeah, exactly. Who the fuck is he kidding? He finds the mere idea of this so hot he could burst.

A shaky breath getting released tears him from his internal debate, going straight to his dick. He’s half hard now, his length steadily growing on his thigh. He swallows heavily, lying stark still on his back, staring up at the dark ceiling. He swore he’d put a stop to this if it happened again, but a little- _huge_ , part of him honestly never wants it to end.

Tyler loves it. He silently yearns for it; hearing his best friend touch himself turns him on more than imaginable.

Josh’s hand is moving consistently now, a rhythm of up and down; even strokes mixed with precum making it wet and louder than necessary. The hitches in his breath are getting more frequent, like he’s really enjoying himself. Tyler wishes he could memorize every intake, every shift, every tug, for when he’s actually allowed to indulge in his fantasies. This whole refusal to touch thing is wearing on him, especially right now.

One time won’t hurt.

No. Don’t touch yourself, don’t touch yourself, don’t touch yourself, Tyler starts chanting in his head. His body doesn’t obey, much to his grief, his firm palm reaching over to push down on his clothed dick. He lets out a small whimper without realizing it and immediately clamps his mouth shut.

He doesn’t move his hand at all as he waits for any kind of shift in Josh’s movements; or his now needy huffs. It doesn’t come, thankfully. He either didn’t hear it, or is choosing to ignore it: Tyler doesn’t know what’s worse. Nonetheless, it propels him to continue. He made it as far to actually acknowledge his leaking cock, so it’s already more eventful than any of the other nights this has happened.

Tyler dares to wiggle his shorts down to the top of his thighs, wrapping slender fingers tightly around the base of his dick. He squeezes experimentally, dragging up, and it feels so _good_. He’s fully aware he isn’t going to last long, not with Josh whining in an octave higher than normal, and the pressure building in the pit of his gut like white hot fire.

The brunet starts stroking himself, left hand delicately resting on his toned stomach. When Josh lets out a particularly rough groan, Tyler pushes down, fingertips digging into tan skin, keeping him grounded. A bang rang out suddenly, startling him briefly, and he hisses. A hand had hit the wall their pillows leaned against.

“Sorry.” Josh chokes out, breathless in the hottest way possible. Tyler is caught up in his own pleasure that at first, he doesn’t even realize the apology was aimed for him. Holy shit. Josh knew.

Tyler stops his motion, processing this. Josh knew he was getting off to him. _Josh knew._

He can’t just quit now, his tip is leaking, warning the brink of release. And Josh obviously doesn’t seem to mind, maybe even enjoys it. But, fuck, this is supposed to be awkward. The act itself, yes, but getting caught? So, so, weird. Tyler’s a mess.

He throws caution to the wind, jerking off harder than before; there’s no point in going slow in hopes that Josh doesn’t hear. The sounds of their persistent tugs mingled in the air, blending together so Tyler truly didn’t know where his wet slaps ended and Josh’s began.

A deep moan flutters out of Josh after a few minutes of building stutters, accompanied by, “Oh, fuck, Tyler.”

Tyler’s hips buck up into his fist without him even trying, desperately chasing what he’s needed for weeks. Josh’s climax is the strongest one he’s had in awhile, and it hurts that Tyler’s studied his bandmate’s orgasms so much that he can acknowledge this.

“Shit, shit, shit.” Tyler whispers, lip bit hard between his teeth. He swipes his thumb hurriedly over the head, squeezing his cock in anticipation with the last couple of strokes. It hits him in a burst of bone-aching pleasure and ‘Holy fuck, yes.’ before he’s sagged against his sheets, cum painting his exposed torso and wrist.

“I was wondering when you’d crack.”

Tyler huffed out a tired laugh, tossing over the weight of that statement in his brain. The jizz on his chest was making him feel gross. He plucked his discarded t-shirt from in between the wall and his side, cleaning himself up quickly. What do you say when something like this occurs? There’s no handbook titled ‘Just kind of jacked off with best friend/bandmate? Here’s what to say and do afterwards!’. He was utterly screwed.

He couldn’t just _not_ speak. He had to say something, at least. So, he turned on his side, pulled his blanket over himself, and muttered out, “Night, Josh.” for the second time that evening.

“Night, Tyler.”

  
Everything was fucked.

**Author's Note:**

> comments and kudos always appreciated! also, i take requests on tumblr: odetolocal


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